Cockles and Muscles
by housepotterNCIS
Summary: After a hard day, House just wants to unwind. Can Simon help? (Part of "Parents with a Cause" series, House-Wilson household. Takes place several months after "Meet the Connellys." Rated the same as the other stories, though this one's pretty tame)


**A/N: This is set in the "Parents with a Cause" universe. If you have questions about that universe, please check my profile page before asking me questions to see if that has the answers you seek. (If it doesn't, feel free to shoot me a PM. Just check there first). Otherwise, enjoy, and PLEASE comment :)**

It had been a long day. Chasing Teddy through the streets of London was not House's idea of a good time, and it made his leg hurt something fierce. Wilson's condition for having children with House had included the fact that House would remain drug-free and would continue going to see Dr. Nolan, so vicodin wasn't an option at this point. Neither, unfortunately, was sleep. House had managed to get the kids in bed okay, and had even tried lying down with Wilson, but the pain was too much to handle, and as soon as he was sure that Wilson had dozed off, House rolled out of bed and gimped down the hall to the living room. On nights like tonight, his piano was the only real relief he had—one of the few comforts in his life that Dr. Nolan hadn't asked him to give up.

House played quietly at first. He started with something slow and sad, a medley his mother had sung to him when he was a boy. From there he transitioned to some classical music, still trying to stick to something quiet and calm. Just as he was getting ready to transition out of that, however, House heard a floorboard creak behind him. His hands stilled, and he turned to see Simon standing there in stockinged feet.

"I'm sorry," House said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Simon shrugged mutely, but he wasn't looking at House. His eyes were fixed on the piano. Then, with a rare confidence House hadn't seen in the boy before, Simon crossed the room placed his hand on the keyboard where House's had just been, and played the last line House had played.

House shot the boy a look of surprise. "You play?"

Simon shook his head _no_, still looking at the piano with a silent awe.

House slid over on the bench and patted the spot beside him.

Simon hesitated for a moment, and then he clambered awkwardly onto the bench beside House. House should have taught the boy to read music, he supposed—should have started with the basics—but he knew from experience that the basics took time and often weren't much fun, and it was almost two o'clock in the morning. Instead, House started with a fairly basic song. He sang along with the music in his solid baritone, and went slowly so that Simon could watch:

_In Dublin's fair city,_

_Where the girls are so pretty_

_I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone. _

_She wheeled a wheel barrel_

_Through streets broad and narrow_

_Crying, "Cockles and Mussels alive, alive-o."_

Simon bit his lip nervously before reaching forward and playing the first two lines of the song. He stumbled over the third line, not quite getting it, and then stopped and set his hand beside him on the bench. House looked at the boy, half-expecting Simon to be nervous, but Simon was giving House an expectant look, and House thought that it may well have been the first time Simon had looked him in the eye since he and his sister had moved in.

House carefully played the song again, and again Simon mimicked him, this time getting more than halfway through the song before stumbling. A third time over, and Simon had the song down cold.

House had the boy play it a couple more times before he suggested they play it in a round. He had Simon start, and then he joined in, singing along with his lines as he had been. On the repeat, he was surprised to hear a second voice join in. It was only because he'd played the piano for so long that House was able to continue to play the round when Simon started singing. The boy had been living with him for almost three months and had never made a peep. Now, though his voice was weedy and uncertain and his words less than accurate, House could hear him:

_Through Dubbins fair city_

_Where girls is so pretty_

_I first sets mine eyes on sweet Molly Molly._

_She wheels a wheel-barrels_

_Through streets brought an' narrels_

_Cryin', "Popples and Mupples a lie, a lie-bo!"_

House continued the round, repeating the verse several more times with the boy. Each time, Simon's voice became a little stronger, a little more certain. House heard his bedroom door open and Wilson walk towards them, but he didn't acknowledge the other man, fearing that Simon would stop playing if he knew they had an observer. To House's surprise, at the end of the verse, Simon slowed the song to a close, proving that he'd noticed Wilson's presence but also that he'd been willing to play in front of the other man.

House grinned and turned around and faced his partner. "What do you think, Jimmy?"

"Very nice," Wilson said. "It would have been nicer if it wasn't two o'clock in the morning. What are the two of you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," House said. "Nolan's fault." He knew that Wilson would understand the reference and infer that House's leg was hurting, but he didn't want to say that in front of Simon. The last thing that he wanted was for his kids to think he was weak.

"Mmm," Wilson said, frowning at House. He turned to Simon and said, "What about you? House wake you up?"

Simon hesitated for a moment, chewing on his lower lip, and then he shook his head. He opened his mouth once, swallowed hard, and then tried again. "I… I's awake. Was reading."

Wilson frowned. "You were asleep when we left you earlier."

Simon looked away. "Dreamed funny. Woke up."

Wilson said, "Well, maybe now that you've played the piano a bit, you'll sleep better, huh? Wanna try?"

Simon whimpered slightly under his breath and slid closer to House. House looked down at the boy. He was torn between loving the fact that Simon was finally opening up—and favoring him over Wilson, of all things—and the fact that Wilson was right, and the boy really should be in bed. House glanced at Wilson, and the look in the younger man's eyes warned House not to screw this up.

House poked Simon lightly in the side. He spoke in a tone that was simultaneously playful and authoritative. "Wilson's right, short stuff. It's way past bedtime."

Simon sighed and looked down at the floor.

"Come on," House said, crouching slightly in front of Simon. "Hop on. I'll bring you back to your room."

"House—" Wilson said.

House glared at Wilson. Simon was already clambering nervously onto House's back, and Wilson fell silent. House stood up, hooking his arms under Simon's legs to make sure the boy stayed secure, and walked toward the boy's room. When he got there, he turned his back to Simon's bed and let the boy tumble lightly onto his mattress.

"Get in," House said, shaking the covers back for the boy.

Simon clambered under the covers. House felt Wilson come up behind him, and Simon smiled lightly at the other man over House's shoulder.

"Close your eyes," House said.

Simon shot House a worried look.

"We'll leave the hall light on," House said, "and you can come get us if you have another nightmare."

When Simon still didn't look certain, Wilson laid a hand on House's forearm. House stepped aside so that the other man could give it a try.

"There's this thing called Occulmency," Wilson said, crouching down next to Simon. "Funny thing is, it's taught to wizards, but muggles can do it, too. Your Uncle Sev taught it to me. It can help you sleep. You want to learn?"

Simon nodded eagerly.

"Alright." Wilson brushed Simon's bangs off of his forehead. "Close your eyes. Clear your mind of everything that's worrying you, and just listen to my voice. Picture a field. A big, large, grassy field. It's a warm day, and you're lying in the grass and staring up at the sky and you see clouds above you. Big, white, fluffy clouds, and they're floating by you, and all you can see are those clouds and all you can smell is the grass and all you can feel is the warm sun on your skin…"

When Simon finally drifted off to sleep, House and Wilson crawled tiredly into their bed. House stared through the darkness at the ceiling, feeling Wilson's hand on his chest and Wilson's warm breath on his shoulder.

"Hey, Jimmy," House whispered.

"Mmmm?"

"You ever notice that Occlumency is an awful lot like meditation?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"You think that's where muggles learned meditation?"

Wilson sighed. "I think I don't care right now."

"Okay." House stared at the ceiling a moment. "Hey, Jimmy?"

"Mmm?" There was annoyance in Wilson's voice now.

House trailed a finger apologetically on Wilson's hand, and then he said, "He _spoke_."

"Yeah," Wilson said. This time House could hear the smile. "He did."

House smiled as well.

"Greg?" Wilson said.

"Hmm?"

"Your leg still hurt?" Wilson asked. "It… It'd probably be okay for you to take a couple advil, you know?"

"Yeah," House said. He massaged his leg out of habit, but then he remembered Simon's voice as he sang _Cockles and Mussels _for the first time, and House found himself smiling. "It's okay, Wilson. My leg's okay now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." House tightened his hold on Wilson and finally closed his eyes for the night. "Yeah. I've never felt stronger."


End file.
